Christmas Wishes Part 3. Diana Palmer

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Christmas Wishes Part 3 - Diana Palmer


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at CeeCee.

      “Guillaume?” I say. “Everything can still go ahead as normal.”

      CeeCee flushes, and pretends to be interested in the fire all of a sudden.

      “Guillaume,” I say again, touching his arm.

       “Oui?”

      A grin splits my face; when he reverts to French I know he’s dumb with love for CeeCee.

      “I said, everything can still go as planned, right?”

      He tucks his hands into his pockets. “OK. Yes. Merci.

      My anger at Olivia will have to wait as I fight the urge to question CeeCee and Guillaume about why they can’t make eye contact.

      “CeeCee,” I can’t help but tease, “are you OK? You’ve gone as quiet as a mouse.”

      She turns from the fire, her hands on her hips. “Yes, yes. I’m…deep in thought on account of the letter, is all.”

      “You’re deep in thought?” Who says that? My heart lifts, thinking love can find a person when they least expect it. I may be jumping the gun, but the vibe radiating from these two is enough to make the most oblivious person notice.

      “You gonna make something of it?” She stares down her nose at me.

      I laugh and shake my head. “No, ma’am.”

      “I must go.” Guillaume shuffles his feet, and stares resolutely at the floor. “Lil, I hope there is no more problems. I cannot cook unless I’m happy. And this email, it did not make me happy.”

      “I understand, Guillaume. It won’t happen again. And we want you to be happy.” I smirk at CeeCee, who looks away.

      “Au revoir.” He gazes longingly at CeeCee once more before spinning on his heel.

      I wait two counts before saying, “What in the heck was that, Cee?”

      “It’s that soon-to-be mother-in-law—”

      I wave her away. “Oh, I know, it’s her. But I meant that…” I point to Guillaume as he strides past the front window, shrugging down into his jacket against the snowfall.

      She clasps her hands and grunts to herself.

      I place my hands on my hips. “CeeCee, spill already.”

      She takes a huge breath and says, “Fine! Glory be, you sure are nosey. You like a bloodhound or somethin’.”

      I fold my arms and raise an eyebrow.

      She giggles like a young girl. “Well…we’re just friends.”

      “I don’t believe you.”

      She sighs, but it’s half-hearted and she grins. “It just sort of happened, but it’s not like you young things. He’s a companion, someone to cook for on these cold winter nights. That’s all it is ’fore you go thinkin’ silly on me.”

      “Oh, Cee. That’s so beautiful.” I am stunned she hasn’t told me, but I can see it’s a sensitive issue for her.

      She fusses with her apron. “I don’t want folk knowing just yet, though it won’t be long before Rosaleen finds out, I’m sure. Just till I know exactly how I feel. Sometimes, when I think of Curtis, guilt rips me up inside. I promised I’d love that man for ever.”

      I cluck my tongue. “You do still love him, Cee. But surely there’s enough room in your heart for a friendship?”

      She averts her gaze. “I know, just some days are harder than others. Especially this time of year, the memory of Curtis passing hits me hard. And at any rate, I s’pose hand-holding ain’t a sin, after all…”

      I smile, picturing CeeCee and Guillaume holding hands across the table as they share a home-cooked meal. Sweet.

      “You should enjoy it for what it is, Cee. You’d be the first to tell me not to overthink it.”

      She shrugs. “I know, cherry blossom. I’m OK, I truly am. It’s been real nice having someone to cook for again.”

      I pat her arm. “I’m happy for you.”

      “Why don’t you scoot over the road and tell Damon about what Olivia did?” Like an expert, she changes the subject.

      “I’ll wait,” I say, my mouth a tight line as I remember the last few days. “He’ll be along soon, and I’ll explain then.”

      “Well, OK. Let’s bake.”

      “Good Lord, that syrup smells like heaven itself,” CeeCee says, dipping a spoon into the mix of berry coulis I’ve just made. The doorbell jingles and in walks Damon with his mother.

      “How’re you feeling?” he asks, sidling up to me.

      “I’m fine.” I manage a tight smile as I think of Olivia running around behind our backs trying to make trouble.

      Olivia smiles her huge smile, and says, “Whatever you’re baking smells divine!”

      CeeCee and I exchange glances, and she nods to me. I swallow the lump in my throat, unsure about confronting her, but knowing I have to.

      “I’m glad you’re both here,” I say, clasping Damon’s hand. “Guillaume paid me a visit early this morning…” I glance at Olivia expecting her to blanch, but she’s still smiling as if nothing is amiss.

      “What’d he say?” Damon asks.

      “It was more of what he thought we said that was a concern.”

      “Do we have to guess? What is it, Lil?” Damon’s forehead furrows.

      I sigh, and find the piece of paper Guillaume left behind. “Read it yourself.”

      Damon takes the printed email, and reads quickly. “What? Who would do that? Is he mad?”

      I hold back a guffaw. Who would do that? Does he have no idea? “He’s OK now, we’ve sorted it out. But there’s this—” I point to the email “—and a few other things. Olivia, do you care to explain?”

      Her eyes go wide. “Care to explain what? What are you implying, Lil?” She puts a hand to her chest in mock surprise.

      I sigh. “I think you know.”

      Damon scoffs. “Lil!” His eyes darken as he frowns over at me as if I’m crazy.

      “What?”

      He clucks his tongue. “I hope you’re not suggesting you think my mother would send this, are you?” For a second I falter. His voice has a warning edge to it. I should have spoken up earlier.

      I cross my arms. “Well, of course I am. She’s the one who’s been telling us we should change venues, and hire a different chef, one that was your supposed girlfriend…”

      CeeCee wrings her hands on an apron. I know she’s debating whether to speak up.

      “God damn it, Lil. Why on earth would she do something like that? I can’t believe you’d suggest it?” Damon’s never spoken to me so sharply before; tears sting my eyes.

      “Well, she did, Damon.” My voice rises. “And she also visited Bessie and tried to get my dress shortened!”

      Olivia inhales sharply. “I did no such thing!”

      Damon clenches his jaw, as if he’s furious. My heart races as I realize he doesn’t believe me. “I don’t know who’s behind this but it certainly isn’t my mother! I think you should apologize, Lil.”

      I fight the urge to stamp my foot in frustration. “Absolutely not!” I glare at Olivia. “Your mother has


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